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A MASQUE OF THE FUTURE 




IN VERSE AND MUSIC, DESIGNED AND WRITTEN BY 

JMargar?i Pattk (Sattaal* 

of Saint Thomas 
AS A 

Jlairuittr SUtual for Jfemhina Olcuntg, Nnrtlj Sakata 

AND PERFORMED IN 

THE VILLAGE OF SAINT THOMAS 

IN 

Sly* ©ut-of-tanr ®lj*atre 

BY THREE HUNDRED COMMUNITY PLAYERS 

REPRESENTING ALL PARTS OF THE 

COUNTY ON JULY 4, 1918 



"If community drama can stir the imagination of the people to 
do such things for themselves, surely cooperative liberty should 
flower ere long in a fairer state than any we have yet known." 

— Frederick H. Koch. 



**$* 



Copyright 1918, by 

Margaret Plank Ganssle 

All Rights Reserved 



118 

CI.D 5061 S 



Bp&trattott 

To all those, who, in the yearning for that 
"New Day of Mens Dreams/' are giving, 
and will continue to give, the best efforts of 
their hands, the clearest thoughts of their 
minds, the warmest love of their hearts, the 
loftiest visions of their souls, — till this Gray 
Day is done, and that Brighter Day dawns 
with gladsome light. 



A f rapljmj 



"This duty do I leave you, gentle friends, 

This duty deep and mighty at our parting, 

To scatter love where naught but hate is growing; 

To scatter peace where war's red blaze is glowing; 

To raise your hearts above the wrongs of strife; 

To lift your souls above the woes of life, 

To serve, though what you do be unrepaid; 

To face tomorrow, trustful, unafraid." 

From the Epilogue spoken by the Spirit oj Prophecy in 
11 A Pageant of the North- West'''' given at the University 
of North Dakota in The Bankside Theatre in 1914. 



Sfaretoorft 



"Love took up the Harp of Life, 
And smote on all the chords with might, — 
Smote the chord of Self, that trembling, 
Passed in Music out of sight." 

— Tennyson. 

At this time when the world is under the hideous nightmare 
of a war-disrupted civilization, these words of Tennyson's must sing 
themselves over and over to the heart, lest faith despair, and hope 
fall, fainting. In their application, not only to individuals, but to 
states, they reveal the means of world-redemption. It was in the 
spirit of these words that the Masque of the New Day was woven 
from dreams, with the hope that others might find in them something 
akin to their own deep desire for that blessed New Day of Peace 
and Happiness for All. 

Even in a small town of five hundred souls may be found 
enthusiasts and dreamers. Believing that the production of a masque 
of this nature might be a tiny factor in the building of that greater 
league of cooperation and brotherhood, which one day will redeem 
the world, these men and women labored ardently for its success. 
That spirit of enthusiasm, disseminated throughout the county, 
brought help and encouragement from every other village. No small 
degree of the enthusiasm was created by the fact that the proceeds 
of the Masque were to be devoted to the county fund for the Red 
Cross, — that sole redeeming agency in the turmoil that now distorts 
the world. 

Parts One, Two, and Four, being purely symbolic, comprise 
the Masque. Part Three, chiefly historical, is composed of three 
scenes, depicting: first, the conception and early development of the 
idea of nursing the wounded, thru the agency of Florence Nightingale ; 
second, the development and results of the organization of that idea 
in the Red Cross as revealed in the work of Clara Barton; third, 
the work of the International Red Cross Society today in the carnage- 
strewn fields of Europe. For the material in the first scene, the 
author is indebted to Sir Edward Cook's Life of Florence Night- 
ingale, and to Mr. Kinglake's Invasion of the Crimea, from 
both of which works were gleaned not only the foundation of the 
action, but, with one or two exceptions, the entire dialogue. The 
material for the second scene was developed from suggestive phrases 



8 Foreword 

in Clara Barton's own History of the Red Cross. The poem read 
by her in that scene, the description of the effect produced by 
her lines referring to Mrs. Logan, and the final address to Miss 
Barton, presented by Dr. J. B. Hubbell, are taken verbatim from 
her book. For the general ideas and development of the third scene, 
the author turned to the various periodicals and books of the hour. 

Much gratitude and appreciation are due Mr. Frederick H. 
Koch of the English Department of the University of North Dakota, 
to whom the author went frequently for advice, criticism, and above 
all, for inspiration in a work, the desire for which was fostered by 
Mr. Koch in the author's student days. In the preparation of the 
Book, too, his aid and advice were invaluable. Mr. Koch's rare 
enthusiasm for the service which the Theater can render in the 
realization of that great Dream which will build upon this plane, 
a "New World, revived and purified," has lit a flame in many hearts 
which will burn on with never-dying ardor. 

The author wishes to express, also, her appreciation of the un- 
tiring efforts of all of those who have labored in the production of 
the Masque, for it is through them that the Word has been made 
Flesh, — that the Dream has become Reality. 

Margaret Plank Ganssle. 



The Directors of the Masque 



Sty* fiimtiim nf t\\t fTOajsqu* 

The Director of the Masque 
Margaret Plank Ganssle 

The Manager of the Masque 
Mr. Thomas E. Whelan 

The Directors of the Music 

The Composition — Margaret Plank Ganssle 

The Direction of the Orchestra — Mr. N. E. Johnson 

The Direction of the Chorus — Miss Gladys McKinnen 

Mrs. John McKibben 

The Director of Costuming 
Mrs. A. L. Miller 

The Director of Construction 
Mr. A. L. Miller 

The Director of Lighting 
Mr. R. A. DeMars 

The Advisory Director 
Mr. Frederick H. Koch 



10 The Committees of the Masque 

Stye (Enmmttteea txf X\\v Masque 

Committee on Arrangements 
Dr. A. W. Grandy Mr. Fred Van Camp, Pr. 

Mr. A. B. O'Connor Mr. E. M. Cull 

Mr. E. G. Wynne Mr. Thomas E. Whelan 

Mr. C. S. Ganssle 

Committee on Finance 
Mr. W. A. Mowen Mr. Byron Hurst 

Dr. A. W. Grandy Mr. O. M. Sproule 

Mr. Thomas E. Whelan Mr. C. S. Ganssle 

Mr. J. R. Gibson 

Committee on The Outdoor Theater 

Mr. A. L. Miller Mr. A. C. Grant 

Mr. O. Va Camp Mr. L. Bartelson 

Mr. H. L. Vanderlip Mr. Ed. Wynne 

Mr. V. Johnson Mr. Ronald Oyb 

Mr. Fred Van Camp Mr. Joseph Van Camp 
Mr. Raymond R. Hitchcock 

Committee on Lighting 
Mr. H. E. Gibson Mr. Allan McPhail 

Mr. R. A. DeMars 

Committee on Publicity 
Dr. F. W. Deason Mr. Ray Kelly 

Mr. Thos. Hetherington Mr. James Strand 

Mr. Thomas E. Whelan 

Committee on Costumes 

Mrs. A. L. Miller Mrs. J. Johnson 

Miss Helen Gardiner Mrs. A. McPhail 

Mrs. J. M. O'Connor Mrs. Carrie Hamilton 

Mrs. G. Ostrom Mrs. O. M. Sproule 

Mrs. Margaret Grandy Mrs. J. Whelan 

Mrs. W. Gardiner Mrs. Wm. McKibben 

Mrs. Frank Wedge Mrs. Fred Van Camp 



The Committees of the Masque II 

Committee on Properties 

Mr. Archie B. O'Connor, Mr. Garnett Thexton 

Chairman Mrs. R. A. DeMars 

Mr. A. C. Grant Mrs. H. E. Gibson 

Mr. D. Campbell Mr. Elmer Grandson 

Committee on Music 
Mr. Jud LaMoure, Jr. Mr. Howard Patmore 

Miss Gladys McKinnen Mr. Clarence O'Connor 

Miss Kathryn Harris Miss Virginia Short 

Mr. A. B. O'Connor Miss Norma Melville 

Miss Eleanor Short Mr. Harold Johnson 

Mr. J. Van Camp Mr. Jake Milstein 

Mr. Ole Olson 

Committee on Special Posters 
Mrs. George Hutton Miss Nellie Young 

Mr. D. Campbell Miss Jeannette Campbell 

Miss Hazel Johnson Miss Myrtle Grandson 

Miss Irmine Hennessy 

Committee on the Manuscript 

First Copies — Cover Design — 

Miss Charlotte Jones Mr. Howard DeLong 

Miss Gertrude Cook 

Committee on Dances 
Miss Agnes O'Connor, Miss Marguerite O'Connor 

Chairman Miss Lena Sutterlin 

Mrs. H. E. Gibson Miss Hazel Johnson 

Committee on the Cast 
Mrs. A. M. O'Connor Miss Helen Gardiner 

Miss Charlotte Jones Mrs. E. T. Thompson 

Mrs. A. L. Miller Mr. A. L. Miller 

Mrs. O. M. Sproule Mr. A. C. Grant 

Committee on Entertainment 
Mr. Robert Baird Mr. D. E. Mcintosh 

Mr. Byron Hurst Mr. Ray Miller 

Dr. A. W. Grandy 



12 



The Committees of the Masque 



Mr. Jerrold Quam 
Mr. T. A. Miller 
Mr. I. E. Ottem 
Mr. E. M. Cull 



Marshals of the Day 

Mr. Gordon Smith 
Mr. Fred Ottem 
Mr. H. C. Childerhose 
Mr. Charles Scott 
Mr. E. G. Wynne 



Mr. W. B. Stitt 



Committee on Decorations 
Mr. L. B. Oby 
Mr. D. H. Campbell 



Committee on Refreshments 
Mrs. R. A. DeMars Mrs. S. E. Peterson 

Mrs. G. H. Garnett Miss Annie Larson 

Mrs. James Whelan Mrs. J. W. Walker 

Mrs. Joseph Van Camp 



Characters and Presences of the Masque 13 

(ftfjarartera att& IJUvtztnttB nf tlj* MuBqnt 

In the Order of Their Appearance 

THE FIRST PART 

The Cherubs Donna Campbell, 

Iona Elias. 

The Chorus of Months Miss Agnes O'Connor, 

Miss Elaine Baldwin, Miss Marguerite O'Connor, Miss 
Frances Murphy, Miss Henrietta Wilson, Miss Helen Wil- 
son, Miss Ethel O'Connor, Miss Louise Wollenback, Miss 
Isabel O Connor, Miss Anna Ganssle, Miss Doris Grant, 
Miss Jeannette Campbell. 

The Wielder of Years Honorable H. G. Vick 

The Immortals: 

The Youth Mr. Carleton Miller 

The Maid Miss Helen O'Connor 

Other Immortals Miss Alice Nelson, 

Mr. Owen Kelly, Mr. John Van Camp, Miss Lois Bellows, 
Miss Naomi Frazier, Mr. Richard Ganssle, Miss Jean Miller, 
Mr. Earl Wynne, Miss Barbara Wroblunky, Miss Mildred 
Grant, Miss Betty Hall, Miss Mary Thexton, Miss Venie 
DeMars, Miss Elaine Larson, Miss Bernice Godke, Miss 
Edith Oby, Miss Gudlough Wick, Miss Ruth Hagen, Mr. 
Edward Thompson, Miss Frances O'Connor, Mr. Lloyd 
Berg, Miss Anna Rowe, Mr. Charles Nelson, Miss Dorothy 
McGrift, Miss Mary Hetherington, Miss Eliza Pethick, Mr. 
Benny Nelson, Miss Marguerite Bellinger, Mr. Lloyd Van 
Camp, Miss Nellie Ostrom, Miss Alice Berg, Mr. Karl 
Ganssle, Miss Louise O'Connor, Miss Anna Campbell, Miss 
Helen Grant, Miss Ruth Vicennes, Mr. Charles Wing, Miss 
Minerva Thexton, Miss Beatrice DeMars, Miss Mary 
O'Connor, Miss Hilma Anderson, Miss Olga Shultz, Miss 
Josephine Garnett, Mr. Robert Thompson, Miss Lavina 
Lavin, Mr. Edward Oby, Miss Agnes Anderson, Miss Mar- 
garet Durick, Miss Margery Friday, Miss Mabel Strand, 
Miss Madge Miller, Miss Helen Campbell. 



14 Characters and Presences of the Masque 

The Angel of Oblivion Miss Margaret O'Sullivan 

The Three Sisters of Destiny Miss Vera Disbrow 

Miss Virginia Short, Miss Irene Adams. 

The God, Pan Miss Agnes O'Connor 

The Spirit of Envy Mr. Willard Hamilton 

The Spirit of Greed Mr. Louis Whelan 

The Spirit of Might Mr. George Hutton 

The Spirit of Temperance Miss Clara O'Sullivan 

The Spirit of Suspicion . Miss Nellie Young 

Morpheus, God of Sleep Mr. Clarence O'Connor 

The Angel of Love Mrs. H. G. Vick 

The Redeemed Youth Mr. Carleton Mliler 

THE SECOND PART 

Moloch, God of War Mr. H. G. Garnett 

The Spirit of Pride Mr. A. L. Miller 

The Spirit of Hate Mr. Peter Nelson 

The Spirit of Discontent Miss Irmine Hennessy 

The Spirit of Self-Aggrandizement Dr. Waldron 

The Priests of Moloch Mr. O. Van Camp 

John Winlaw. 

The Black Slaves Mr. John Shields, 

Mr. Thomas Whelan, Mr. C. S. Ganssle, Mr. Gordon Van 
Camp, Mr. Roy Zerb, Mr. Ole Roe, Mr. Harold Lunde, 
Mr. Byron Hurst, Mr. Al Hurst, Mr. John Kelley, Mr. 
Alfred Miller, Dr. Deason, Mr. Percy Shinander, Mr. 
Thompson Childerhose, Mr. Sig Roe, Mr. Christ Lunde, Mr. 
Dan Mcintosh, Mr. Belford Bellinger, Mr. Harold Childer- 
hose, Mr. Harold Shafer. 

Warriors Mr. Ash, 

Mr. Garnett Thexton, Mr. John Buchanan, Mr. H. E. Gib- 
son, Mr. James Strand, Mr. Will McKibbon, Mr. Howard 
Plank, Mr. Ibsen Ottem, Mr. Tom Lavin, Mr. Ray Van 
Camp, Mr. Fred Ottem, Mr. George Grandson, Mr. Louis 
Whelan, Mr. Andrew Miller, Mr. Oliver Sproule, Mr. John 



Characters and Presences of the Masque 15 

McKibben, Dr. Grandy, Mr. Ed Christianson, Mr. Archie 
B. O'Connor, Mr. Jack Lavin, Mr. William O'Connor, Mr. 
Rang Roe, Mr. Ernest Cull, Mr. George Green, Mr. S. L. 
Albright, Mr. W. B. Stitt, Mr. Preston Smith, Mr. Will 
Ottem, Mr. Ronald Oby, Mr. Robert Baird, Mr. Will 
Green, Mr. Ray Miller, Mr. Gordon Smith, Mr. Gerald 
Quam, Mr. Charlie Scott. 

The Spirit of Religion Mr. Guy Jamieson 

The Spirit of Philosophy Mr. Bob Carson 

The Spirit of the Arts Mr. Clarence Grandson 

Florence Nightingale Mrs. E. T. Thompson 

Clara Barton Mrs. George Hillis 

The Herald of the New Day Mr. Elmer Grandson 

THE THIRD PART 

Scene One 

Selina Bracebridge Mrs. W. R. Mowen 

The English Soldiers Mr. John Buchanan, 

Mr. James Strand, Mr. Robert Baird, Mr. Ronald Oby, 
Mr. Jack Lavin. 

The Nurses Mrs. W. McKibben 

Miss Mary Kennelly, Mrs. Lincoln Armstrong. 

The Surgeons Dr. Grandy 

Dr. Gailbreath. 

The Orderly Mr. Fred Van Camp 

The Chaplain Mr. Ed Wynne 

The Boy Thomas John Lewis Miller 

The Heavenly Voice Mr. Clarence O'Connor 

Scene Two 

President McKinley Mr. George Hillis 

General W. W. Dudley Mr. C. S. Ganssle 

Mrs. Logan Mrs. A. Wynne 

Mrs. George Keenan Mr. John B. Nevin 



1 6 Characters and Presences of the Masque 

Dr. J. B. Hubbell Mr. C. J. Solwakke 

Dr. Winfield Egan Mr. Franklin Page 

Dr. T. H. H. Corrtrell Mr. Christ Lunde 

Dr. Chas. R. Gill Mr. D. G. Mcintosh 

J. A. McDowell Mr. Louis Whelan 

J. K. Elwell Mr. Andrew Miller 

Geo. J. Hassett Mr. Archie B. O'Connor 

C. D. Corrtrell Mr. Dan Mcintosh 

Annie M. Fowler Miss Anna McPhail 

General Wade Mr. Lloyd Graham 

The Youngest Red Cross Nurse Miss Helen Grant 

The Waiters Mr. Elwell Beattie 

Mr. Ray Van Camp, Mr. William O'Connor, Mr. Thomp- 
son Childerhose. 

Ladies of the Potomac Corps Mrs. A. M. O'Connor 

Mrs. J. M. O'Connor, Mrs. Joe Lee, Mrs. Wolnick, Mrs. 
Gailbreath, Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. J. Whelan, Mrs. 
F. King, Mrs. R. McBride, Miss Charlotte Jones, Mrs. S. 
Parker, Mrs. Warner. 

Nurses Miss Lena Sutterlin, 

Miss Olive Buchanan, Miss Nellie Baird, Miss Luella Mc- 
Phail. 

Scene Three 

Dr. Hunt Mr. George O'Connor 

Dr. Wilder Dr. F. Deason 

Miss Sewell Mrs. F. J. King 

A Nurse Miss Helen Gardiner 

The Irish Soldier Mr. Louis Whelan 

The English Soldier Mr. John Buchanan 

The Stretcher Bearers Mr. George Grandson, 

Mr. H. E. Gibson. 

The Sammy Mr. Garnett Thexton 



Characters and Presences of the Masque 17 

The German Mr. Ronald Oby 

The Africans Mr. Dan Mcintosh, 

Mr. Harold Childerhose. 

The Scotchman :__ Mr. David Forbes 

The French Troubadours Mr. Clarence O'Connor, 

Mr. Guy Jamieson. 

The Greatest Mother in the World Mrs. John McKibben 

The Wounded Soldier Mr. Walter Van Camp 

THE FOURTH PART 

Six Cherubs Donna Campbell 

Iona Elias, Edna Peterson, Elaine Van Camp, Helen Gilmore, 
Georgia Ganssle. 

The Goddess of Love Mrs. H. G. Vick 

The Spirit of Peace Miss Hazel Johnson 

The Spirit of Liberty Miss Goldie Strand 

The Spirit of Faith Mrs. Oliver Sproule 

The Spirit of Justice Miss Ella Robertson 

The Spirit of Truth Miss Olga Morsen 

The Messengers Mr. Ernest Cull, 

Mr. Lincoln Armstrong. 

The National Representatives Mr. C. R. Green 

Mr. Albert Garnett, Mr. Joseph Garnett, Mr. James Mc- 
Cabe, Mr. R. Currie, Mr. Judge O'Connor, Mr. R. McBride, 
Mr. A. Short, Mr. Hall, Mr. W. N. Husband, Mr. A. Rob- 
bie, Dr. J. Walker, Mr. Wm. McMurchie, Mr. Geo. Pax- 
man, Mr. Wesley Van Camp, Mr. E. Bellows, Mr. Stanley 
Armstrong, Mr. D. Kippen, Mr. D. McNeil, Mr. Ed. Harris, 
Dr. Matter, Mr. K. O. Paulson, Mr. J. Manning, Mr. G. 
Hillis, Mr. I. J. Foster, Mr. F. A. Wilson, Mr. Chas. Mur- 
phy, Mr. W. D. McLeod, Mr. A. J. McFadden, Mr. Joe Lee, 
Mr. John Cockburn, Mr. James Wilkens, Mr. Sidney Doug- 
las, Mr. E. D. Booker, Mr. John Halcrow, Mr. O. C. Olson, 
Mr. Robert Moore, Mr. Dan Buchanan, Mr. W. J. Lean, 
Mr. Robert Long, Mr. W. S. Johnson. 



1 8 Characters and Presences of the Masque 

THE HEAVENLY CHOIR 

Soloists Mr. Clarence O'Connor 

Mr. Guy Jamieson, Mr. R. A. DeMars. 

Chorus Miss Maude Martyn 

Miss Pearl Connell, Mrs. S. Johnson, Mrs. W. H. Otten, 
Mrs. E. Martin, Mrs. John McKibben, Mrs. Christ Lunde, 
Mr. Christ Lunde, Dr. Frank Deason, Miss Evelyn Grant, 
Mrs. Oliver Sproule, Mrs. R. A. DeMars, Mrs. H. E. 
Gibson, Mrs. Lincoln Armstrong, Miss Sadie Anderson, Miss 
Nangchild Eilertson, Mr. Clarence Grandson, Mr. Elmer 
Grandson, Mr. George Grandson, Mr. Victor Ferdufon, Mr. 
Karl Vestre, Mr. Louis Whelan, Mr. Lincoln Armstrong, 
Mr. Willard Hamilton, Mr. Garnett Thexton, Mr. Joe 
Van Camp, Mr. Fred Van Camp, Mr. Archie B. O'Connor, 
Miss Bernice O'Sullivan, Miss Isabel O'Connor, Miss Goldie 
Strand, Miss Helen O'Connor, Mr. John McKibben, Miss 
Jeanette Campbell, Miss Viola Van Camp, Miss Altha 
Walker, Mr. William O'Connor, Miss Mary Lavin, Mr. 
Alfred Miller, Mr. Carleton Miller, Miss Irmine Hennessy, 
Miss Helen Shield, Miss Beatrice Soper, Mr. Francis O'Con- 
nor, Mr. Harrison Thexton, Mr. Ray Van Camp, Miss Mar- 
garet Bigwood, Miss Olga Christianson, Miss Kathleen Duffy, 
Miss Rose Duffy, Miss Mary Duffy, Miss Rachael McCon- 
nell, Miss Marian O'Connor, Mr. Andrew Miller. 



Sty* %m lag 

A MASQUE OF THE FUTURE 

The Outdoor Theater 

With a semicircular sweep, the land rises gently to form a 
lower stage — the Earth-plane or Realm of Mortals. This lower 
Realm is charmingly fitted to captivate the senses. Delicate flowers 
are yielding their beauty and fragrance. A lovely little pool beguiles 
the onlooker with its depth of clear water. Shady nooks invite him 
to rest and be content. In every way the Realm of Mortals is 
designed to be a beauteous home for the race of men. 

Above and behind the Earth-plane, clothed in mystic light, is 
visible the upper stage — The Dominion of Immortals. A broad 
stairway, shining and golden, leads from this sphere down to the 
Realm of Mortals. At the head of the stairway loom the twin 
pillars of the Gate of Oblivion. In the far background are masses 
of soft green foliage. During the interims of scene-changing, dra- 
peries of the same soft green obscure the stage from view. 



mp 3fftat fart 



'Though inland far we be, 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 
Which brought us hither." 

— Wordsworth. 



©tie Jtrat fart 



The Masque is announced by the trumpeting of two cherubs. 
In silver and white raiment they flit forward like lovely doves, and 
sound their tiny silver trumpets from the Dominion of the Immor- 
tals. 

The Chorus of Months 

January appears in snow white, asparkle with frost; February 
in icy blue, with icicles hanging like fringe; March in the rich brown 
that suggests the warming earth and the strong spring gusts; her 
gown is adorned with pussy willows; April, in delicate green aglint 
with raindrops; May in the soft blue of violets with touches of daf- 
fodil yellow; June, rose-clad and radiant; July in the flaming red of 
poppies and the strong green of vigorous crops; August, in the yel- 
low of harvest and of golden rod; September ivith the gold and crim- 
son of changing leaves; October, with the smoky lavender of asters 
that have felt the frost, and the clear silver of the Indian summer 
moon; November, in the gray of mourning trees and wasted heath; 
December in the crimson of the holly-berry, and the olive green of 
the mistletoe. She carries a sceptre tipped with the golden Christmas 
Star. ■ 

The months perform a graceful symbolic dance. In deep, mel- 
low voices they chant, echoing in high sweet refrain. 

The Chorus of Months 
Cometh he, cometh he, who wields the years of mystery. 

Thus they prelude the entrance of the Wielder of Years. Slowly 
and silently, with impressive dignity, he enters. His robe is chiefly 
of gray to suggest the misty years of the Future. Behind him flows, 
in a long train, a cloak of black denoting the dead years of the Past. 
From his shoulders, in front, hangs a green stole typifying the vivid 
years of the Present. Thus stands he, Master of all the Years, 
within the Gate of Oblivion. 

The Wielder of Years 
Children of Earth, dwellers, all of you, on mortal sphere, 
Know ye that in you lie 
Powers undreamt, unheralded, unseen; 
Powers surpassing mightiness of Gods; 
Potential forces that can swiftly change 
What is, to what shall ever be. 



24 The New Day 

Wielder of Years am I, 

And I do hold within the scope of these two hands 

The Yester-years, the years of Now, 

The never-ending years of far Tomorrow. 

I give you Years, unspoiled by touch of Mortal, 

Shining, new born, fresh and radiant 

As ever woke the Sun 

On that first morn, the Dawn of Earth's Creation. 

Pearly they drop into your hands 

To fill with days serene 

And nights of high and holy meditation, 

Or to distort, stultify, and strip 

Bare of purpose, meaning, glory, wonderment. 

Know ye that if ye men but will, 

This very day may usher in 

A countless host of glad Tomorrows! 

When Evil rules your hearts no more, 

When fairy-footed, o'er the Earth, 

May walk with ever-blessed tread, 

Immortals from the Realms of Love. 

Know ye that in your hearts today, 

There springs with ever-quickening fire, 

The Power to bring unto this Plane 

The Joy, the Peace, the Truth that reign 

Among the Spirits, far-serene. 

And do ye now, as I reveal 

The Land of Those, as yet, unborn, 

Remember, that on Earth may be 

The growth of Dreams to Reality. 

The Chorus of Months 
Goeth he, goeth he, who wields the Years of Mystery. 

Again the cherubs enter, trumpeting. The dream-like Dominion 
if Immortals is revealed. The Immortals dance in, and mingle in 
happy concourse. Blue-robed are they, in the delicate blue of soft 
summer skies. A golden cord binds each round about, and a star 
glows golden in the forehead. 

A youth and maiden are seen speaking together. 

The Youth 
Ever-blessed One, dost know that ere long I enter the Gate of 
Oblivion, whither bound, I know not. 



The First Part 25 

The Maiden 

Aye, Twice-blessed, perchance I may go too. For soon or 
late, all we who so desire may pass thru yonder portal. And if thou 
goest, I will go — to be with thee in whatsoever circumstance thou 
findest thyself. Is it well with thee? 

The Youth 

Aye, aye, my Ever-blessed, it will be well with me. I crave 
the wisdom that doth come to all, 'tis said, who enter the Land that 
lies beyond that gate. And it may be that you and I may find others 
bent on our same quest, and render help, each unto each, in our 
Divine Adventure. Come thou, the Angel beckoneth, and forth we 
must learn the Truth that these dim portals hide. Haste we! I burn 
to pierce the mystery that lies beyond these gates. 

As they go, they bid farewell to the others. Gradually num- 
bers of them pass thru the gates. As they pass, the Angel of Oblivion, 
a lovely figure in opalescent gray and silver, kisses the forehead of 
each, thus blotting out all memory of a former existence. As they 
are descending to the Mortal Plane, the three Sisters of Destiny 
await their coming in the world below. In garb of mystic gray they 
stand, with hooded brows. Beside each is a chest of gifts for bestowal 
on the new-made mortals. The fateful Sisters are heard to commune. 

The First Sister of Destiny 

Hark! From the Land of Immortals, 

Sound the trumpets heralding Birth! 

Prepare we our gifts for bestowal 

On those who will dwell upon Earth. 

I have, as my gift for the new-born, 

The Mask that signifies race ; 

Immortals shall all be disguised 

By features and color of face. 

And those who have loved once 

Shall know not 

The One but lately adored. 

Nationality stamps out all likeness, 

Oft resulteth in strife and discord. 

But thou, — {Turning to the second sister) 

What hast thou for the Spirits 

Who presently enter yon gate? 



26 The New Day 

The Second Sister of Destiny 

To me is entrusted the giving 

Of worldly possession, so craved. 

The thot of the troubles they foster 

Makes even me, dismayed. 

Perhaps thou, O, sister — {Turning to the third sister) 

Hast something with less of portentous power. 

Disclose, pray, what blessing thou seekest 

To bestow on those born at this hour. 

The Third Sister of Destiny 

Not of worldly possession, nor riches, 

Nor yet of nation or clan, 

Is my gift, the gift of the Talents, 

The measure of genius in man. 

I give to each newly-born mortal 

A mission of joy to perform; 

The power to sing — or to fashion 

Great temples, the world to adorn; 

And some, with deft hands, will discover 

Rare wonders in marble or paint; 

And others will teach words of wisdom; 

And some, too, great deeds will relate. 

But all will render some service, 

Some useful service to man; 

By using his own special talent 

In the way that only he, can. 

In full rich harmony that swells gloriously into the chorus } the 
Heavenly Choir chants as the Immortals descend to the World below 

The Heavenly Choir 

Ye who venture into life, 
Know ye that joy awaits you there, 
Days that promise blessings rare, 
If ye fall not into strife. 

Chorus 

Go ye unto all the world; 

Live with Truth to guide your way; 

Bring into that mortal life the Light Supernal, — 

Spend your days in peaceful service made noble by Love. 



The First Part 27 

As the Immortals enter the world, they receive their gifts from 
the Sisters of Destiny. From above comes the far sweet echo of 
the Heavenly Choir singing still: "Go ye unto all the world." 

Suddenly from one of the hidden nooks, Pan leaps forth and 
dances over the earth in estatic abandonment, expressing in every 
movement the Joy of Life. The newly-made Mortals look in amazed 
pleasure, then try to follow Pan in the dance. But that blithe Spirit 
vanishes as suddenly as he appeared. 

At first the Mortals are all happy and friendly, enjoying to- 
gether the good gifts of life. Then slyly enters a tall slender figure 
clad in glittering green. Round his neck is coiled a shiny snake. 
Taking a bauble from one, Envy holds it in the light. 

Envy 

How very beautiful this is! Do you but see how it sparkles! 
Have you all one like it? No? What a pity! 

A Youth 
O, but I have one just as beautiful; see how lovely mine is! 

Envy takes his trinket from him, and looks at it carefully. 

Envy 
O, yes! It is quite fine, but not so splendid as this one. 

Thereupon entereth Greed. A massive, swinish creature is he, 
and his pudgy paws seem forever clutching at something. His jowl 
falls in ugly folds, as if his excessive fat were rolling out over the 
top. His brick-red robe is covered zuith prodigious pockets, all of 
which are bulging with acquired properties. His ponderous yellow 
legs seem to have rubbed off the gold of countless coins as he has 
wallowed in his piles of lucre. He approaches the youth. 

Greed 
If yours is not so splendid as his, why not take his? Come, 
Might! Teach this youth how to get what he wants! 

Might, a stupendous figure, in that hard blue that suggests the 
eyes of the Vikings and the cold depths of icy northern seas, armed 
with a cudgel, strides forward. 

Might 
Would'st have treasure, Youth, — that which all men covet? Use 
this ! ( Taking cudgel. ) Take whatsoever thou wilt ! For this means 
might, and might makes right! 



28 The New Day 

At this point Temperance enters. She is attired in the quiet 
drab of the Quaker, denoting utter absence of passion and excess. 

Temperance 
Thou who wast and art, immortal, temper thy desires! See'st 
thou not that thy possession is sufficient for thee? Why wish for 
more? 

The Youth 
O, but yon Gorgeous One clad in shimmering green did tell 
me that my treasure was not so beautiful as that belonging to another. 
How can I be content to have a jewel less lovely than my brother's? 

Temperance 
Thou foolish! Heed not the advice of Envy, neither that of 
Greed. Beware of Might! Should'st thou heed their counsels, deep 
despair and misery will fall upon thee. Heed them not, I pray ! 

The Youth looks at his possession and that of the other, trying 
to decide. At the crucial moment, Envy makes a gesture toward 
the coveted bauble and sighs. 

Envy 

Ah, I would that thou mightest possess so rich a gem! How 
sad that Destiny could not have given thee more! 

This decides the question for the Youth and he approaches 
Might. 

The Youth 
I would possess the wondrous jewel! 
Wilt thou show me how it is to be won? 

Might 

Takes up the cudgel, and smites a small stump. 
Thus! 

The Youth takes the cudgel, comes upon the unwitting possessor 
of the trinket, fells him to the ground, and runs off with the coveted 
prize. Thereupon the three spirits of Envy, Greed, and Might raise 
havoc amongst the others. They point to the victorious Youth, in 
triumph. 

Envy, Greed and Might 
See how easily anything thou would'st have is won! 



The First Part 29 

Suspicion 
A small brown figure, stooped and withered. A long snout, 
worn to a point with too much probing into the affairs of others, is 
her chief adornment. Encountering one maid, Suspicion warns her. 

He whom thou believ'st to love thee, covetest thy treasure. See 
that he achieves it not! 

Her Lover 
Approaching her, pleads. 
Let us away from these who seem to have no other thot of late 
than to have what some one else possesses! 

The Maid 

Too wise to heed him. 

Thinkest thou to take me whither thou wilt, that thou may'st 

have my fortune? Wise have I become, and Trust no longer livest 

in my breast. Yon Blessed One hath opened mine eyes, and I, at 

last, see clearly ! Be gone, thou pale dissembler ! 

Envy 

Again takes one aside and persuadeth him. 
Ah, my friend, see'st thou yon green and shady spot? Methinks 
'twere joy to linger there. But this, thy place! — it is so poor and 
bare and void of green! Why not possess what thou hast not, and 
others have? Why be less happy than the rest? Poor Soul, I pity 
thee! I do indeed! 

The Mortal 
Envious at last, rushes to Might. 
O, thou brave and brawny One, who teacheth men true wis- 
dom, come! Raise thy mighty arm, drive out from here those who 
do now inhabit these rare and beauteous spots, and I'll bow down 
and worship thee! 

Might does as requested, routs the possessor and establishes the 
Envious One. Whereupon that One doth kiss the cudgel and the 
feet of Might. 

The Envious One 
Thanks and praise be unto Thee, thou Mighty One! Thou 
blesseth Earth with thy inhabitance, and from hence forth 'twill ever 
be that in this sign, thy cudgel, the seal of thine omnipotence, we, 
thy slaves, shall conquer! 



30 The New Day 

Some are gathered around a tiny pool. They possess boats. 
Stirred up by Envy and Greed, finally one wails. 

A Mortal 

My boat! My boat! I have no place to sail my boat! 
Others, hearing the cry, discuss it. 
Another Mortal 
What is the meaning of the cry? 
Another 
Hast thou not heard? They say there is one who imperiously 
rules the waves, and that, of course, makes all the others jealous! 

Another 

What fools they be! A boat — a drop of water! What are 
these! But Land, — Ah, Land! — gem-ridden, green-carpeted with 
growing crops, productive of all good to men, — 'tis Land, I say, I 
covet ! 

By this time everyone is in an uproar. Fighting, clutching at 
possessions, place, anything and everything, they madly scramble. 
Finally one, worn out by the conflict, falls prostrate. As he lies 
thus, Morpheus the God of Sleep, enters, singing his dream-song. 

Morpheus 
From Lands afar 
Where Angels are 
I bring a Dream for thee; 
Celestial light 
Shall joy thy sight 
A Vision thou shalt see. 

O, shut thine eyes, 

The starry skies 

Are lit with lamps of Love; 

Thy Dream, so sweet, 

On wings, as fleet, 

Shall bear thee safe above. 

When Dreams are past, 
And thou, at last, 
Art in the world again, 
Keep Vision pure, 
Thy purpose sure — 
Reveal thy Dream to men. 



The First Part 31 

The enchantment of the wondrous voice lulls the Youth to 
sleep. As Morpheus departs, the Angel of Oblivion draws back the 
curtains of forgetfulness, and reveals the Angel of Love on the spirit 
plane, surrounded by a group of the Immortals. So radiant gleams 
the figure of Love, so pure in the purity of the cleansing fire, that 
the eyes of the beholder are dazzled, and the mind quickened with 
memory of the verse: 

"Love is a lively flame, a burning torch } and securely passeth 
thru all. J} 

In raiment of flame, with halo of shimmering gold, appeareth 
the Heavenly Goddess. 

As the Immortals play in affectionate and loving manner, the 
Angel of Love speaks to the sleeping Youth. 

The Angel of Love 

Child of the Past, the Present, and the Eternal Future ! 

Earth-dweller now, though thou seem'st, 

Immortal thou art, forever the offspring of Heaven. 

Of late, in the world, I have seen thee 

At odds with thy kinsman and brothers, 

Forgetting, 'midst surfeit of seeming, 

Those things that are unseen, eternal. 

I charge thee by the Spirit God gavest, 

His breath that dwelleth within Thee, 

Remember thy blessed inheritance, 

Remember the kindship of Spirits, 

Remember the beauty of Kindness, 

Remember the peace of Forgiveness. 

Go thou, in this garment I give thee, 

'Mongst those whom lately thou hated, 

Bind up the wounds of the fallen, 

Speak thou sweet words of compassion, 

Impart the blessing of healing, 

Bequeath the ineffable bounty 

Of a life directed by Love. 

With the completion of Loves admonition, a white cloak with 
a huge Red Cross falls upon the shoulders of the sleeping Youth. He 
wakes } and goes forth among his brethren to do all in his power to 
alleviate the suffering and to end discord. The first Fallen One he 
encounters inquires of him. 



32 The New Day 

The Fallen One 
And who art thou, come into our midst with strange hands 
of healing? 

The Youth 
Brother, in a blessed vision I, at last, discerned verity, and 
helpfulness and love, of which this cross is the symbol. 

Others, seeing the kneeling figure who is binding up his brother s 
wounds stand amazed. 

The Mortals 
Look! He binds up the wounds that we have made! Surely 
he is no earth-born being! 

As they stand thus in wonderment, the heavenly choir is heard 
caroling. 

The Heavenly Choir 

Unto this mortal came heavenly vision clear; 

Blest be such dreamers, to whom the voice divine is dear. 

To all his brethren, his mission he then revealed, 

Brought them the true light, 

Too long from race of men concealed. 

The Angel of Love enters the earth-plane, removing the mask 
of each. They recognize one another as Immortals — friends of the 
Once Ago. As they kneel at Love's feet the heavenly choir sings, 
and continues to chant as the hosts pass up the steps to the Realm 
of the Immortals. 

The Heavenly Choir 

Now there abideth on Earth everlasting peace, 
Love's vast dominion, beginneth, nevermore to cease. 



3tot?rl«to 



The Chorus of Months 
Cometh he, cometh he, who wields the years of Mystery. 

The Wielder of Years 
Once, more, O Sons. of Men, shall I make known 
The Secrets of those watchful Sentinels, the Years; 
Disclosing forms of men long since forgot, 
Who thronging, in their day, to bend the knee 
Before the mighty Moloch, God of War, 
Did thus proclaim him King of all the Earth. 
And then, at length, from out the murky depths 
Of all the sordid brutishness of War, 
Arose, resplendent with celestial light, 
The saintly lily of a woman's sacrifice; 
Taking, from out that dank and noisome waste 
Bodies and souls of shattered, war-spent men — 
Building them up anew, revived and purified. 

The Chorus of Months 
Goeth he, goeth he, who wields the Years of Mysetry. 



Wqt 9*amit fart 



"Hell is empty t 
And all the devils are here" 
— The Tempest. 

"War is the efficiency of unneighborliness, 

Community drama seeks the efficiency of neighborliness" 

— Percy MacKaye. 



©If? ^romfo part 



Thunderings and flashes of crimson light herald the age when 
Moloch, God of War, reigns supreme. His hideous figure sits 
enthroned in the Place of Power. In the obscure background looms 
what seems to be, an illimitable forest of ghastly human skulls. 

With a face that suggests the bloody lust of the tiger, the ferocity 
of the bull-dog, and the fiendishness of the wolf, Moloch sits, 
scowling and terrible. A robe of blood-crimson, bordered with pur- 
ple, serves as a background for his gross frame. His crown fails 
to obscure his ugly horns. A necklace of teeth rattles around his 
neck, and he toys with a skull that lies in his lap. His heavy hands 
seem made for crushing, and his nails for tearing out beating hearts. 
His powerful feet are designed for the express purpose of trampling 
out life. When he speaks, it is as the roaring of a lion, or the 
bellowing of an enraged bull. His tusks crash hideously as he 
thunders forth his grim commands. Not a particular God or ruler 
of any age, but an incarnation of the Spirit of War from time 
immemorial is this, the figure of Moloch. 

At the right of the War-God, stands, leering, a huge wolf. 
Moloch's courtiers — Pride, Greed, Envy, Self-aggrandizement, 
Might, Hate, Suspicion, and Discontent, are stationed near him. 

Pride, a tall, disdainful figure, is robed in royal purple and gold 
lace. Self-aggrandizement is resplendent in the showy rose color 
suggestive of the love of power and place and praise; Hate is clad in 
the color of death — a heavy and dull black — for Hate is Death; 
Discontent, of jaundiced disposition, is suitably arrayed in gown of 
sickly orange. 

As the scene opens, libations are being poured out to Moloch 
by twenty black slaves. Bloody sacrifices are being offered by the 
priests. These, in black and yellow robes, are old men, made fright- 
ful by their long service in the cruel courts of the War-God. As 
the scene proceeds the courtiers and slaves chant a hymn of praise 
and worship. 

The Chorus of Worshippers 

Mighty Moloch, send thy frightful Thunder, 
Cleaving Races, Nations, all asunder, 
Bringing men to worship, filled with wonder, 
Moloch, Monarch of All! 



38 The New Day 

Mighty Moloch, give us power in warfare, 
Mighty Moloch, give us hearts of steel to dare, 
Mighty Moloch, give us arms that never spare, 
Make us true sons of Thee! 

Moloch 
Cease ye slaves! I hear the cry of warriors! Come they to 
worship Moloch? Bid them enter! 

In burst a horde of fierce warriors armed with all the grim 
accoutrements of war. The rolling of drums, beating of tom-toms, 
wierd strains of ancient war music, accompanied continuously with 
the flaring of torches and incense and bursts of crimson flame, add 
to the horror of the scene. 

First come the Barbarians in skins of animals and armed with 
cudgels. Next the Egyptians, with weapons of bone and stone. Then 
Babylonians, Greeks, Romans, Huns, Spanish, American Indians, 
Knights of the Middle Ages — warriors of every age and clime down 
to the time of the Crimean War. They all do obeisance to the 
War.God. 

Moloch 
Rise ye Earth-grovellers! Have ye no sacrifice for Moloch? 
Know ye not that without blood ye call in vain upon the name of 
Moloch ? 

The Chorus of Worshippers 
Aye, blood have we, the reddest, — rich, ruddy gore from throats 
of thousands! Ears and tongues of newborn babes — eyes and breasts 
of maidens — noses and hands of children, teeth and gnarled joints of 
men, beards and toes of the aged! Aye, sacrifice, Great Moloch, — 
sacrifice in plenty!" 

They offer their loathsome gifts. 

Moloch 

'Tis well! I warn ye, come ye not hither to the court of 
Moloch, except ye be borne on rivers of blood, in hurricanes of 
women's screams, in tempests of infant's wails, in cavernous groan- 
ings of old men, in thunderous death-moans of young men. Pile up 
thy victims in gigantic holocausts and know that then, and only then, 
doth Moloch smile! 

As he speaks thus, a plain white-robed figure enters, and ap- 
proaches the Place of Power. 



The Second Part 39 

Moloch 
Who enters here, without the proper sacrifice? 

The Spirit of Religion 
Ah, Terrible One, whose name is written in flaming red of 
hearts' blood, heed ye Religion's Message ! Thou art false ! Hideous 
and false art thou, and those poor mortals who do worship thee 
know thee not for thy true self! 

Moloch 
Be gone from out my sight, thou puny puppy! Here, my Slaves! 
Rend his prattling mouth until it swallows all of him. 

Presently the slaves return, bearing aloft on a huge platter, a 
severed head. As the priests of Moloch present it for offering, the 
chours chants. 

The Chorus of Worshippers 
Ah, sweet be blood, 
Sweet be blood, 
Shed for Thee! 

Ah, sweet be flesh, 
Sweet be flesh, 
Rent for Thee! 

Yet another figure, in gray, ventures forward. 

Moloch 
And who art thou, thou grave and solemn image? 

The Spirit of Philosophy 
Philosophy am I, and I have come to reason with thee. Thou 
drivest men to insane slaughter, to devastation of life and property 
too horrible to contemplate. Knowest thou not that men are born 
to live and dream and enjoy the blessings of a peaceful life, instead 
of falling into all the fearful madnesses of war? 

Moloch 

To reason with me, comest thou? Then depart, thou silly fool! 
To reason! Ha! Go reason with thy brains when they lie scat- 
tered in the dust ! Seize him, slaves, and teach him the reason of the 
parched ground for drinking up his blood! Out with him I say! 

The slaves drag him out, returning presently with two flagons 
of his blood which they present to the priests. The priests pour out 
the blood as a libation. The chant repeats. 

Presently enters a third figure clad in soft purple. 



40 The New Day 

Moloch 
And cometh yet another without the customary offerings of 
blood and severed heads! Why comest thou, pale Spectre? 

The Spirit of the Arts 
O, thou who knowest not the beauty of the Arts, of making the 
world a fair and lovely place in which to dwell, hut reekest bloody 
vengeance on all mankind, I pray thee, list unto my counsel. Re- 
nounce thy ghastly ways, forego thy grim and ugly devastation of 
the race of men, and leave them to build upon the Earth a beauteous 
blessed home! 

Moloch 

Thou gibbering clod-pate! Go sermonize unto the beasts that 
roar without for prey! Here, break his driveling head, and throw 
him to the wolves! 

He is seized by the slaves and dragged out. Presently the slaves 
return bearing proudly a few mangled remains on a silver platter. 
These bloody trophies are offered to Moloch after which the chant 
is again sung. 

With rattle of drums and hymns of praise, accompanied by war- 
like music, the ceremonies continue. 

Moloch 
In the supreme egoism of his nature, chants triumphantly 
Who giveth man the blessings of war? 

The Chorus of Worshippers 

The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who maketh heroes and prizes in battle? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch ! 

Moloch 
Who giveth plunder and rape unto men? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who demandeth the perpetual sacrifice of the choicest of the 
Sons of men? 



The Second Part 41 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who maketh the land fertile with blood of victims slain? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who maketh the tears of the Weeping to cover the face of the 
Earth? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who divideth Nations and giveth them to others? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 
Who holdeth in his power all the demons of Hell and biddeth 
them ravage the Earth? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch! 

Moloch 

Who ruleth the World in triumph supreme? 

The Chorus 
The Mighty Moloch. King art thou over all the Earth! 
Praised be thy name ! 

As the chorus swells, a sudden trumpet call, a flash of light, 
cause all to pause astonished. Slowly, portentiously, flaming across 
the sky, appeareth a huge Red Cross. At the same moment, Florence 
Nightingale and Clara Barton enter left lower plane. At the right 
upper plane appears a heavenly figure arrayed in shining gold and 
the soft green suggestive of new life. He, the Herald of the New 
Day, majestically proclaims. 

The Herald of the New Day 
Aye, tremble, Moloch, in thy Place of Power, 
For shattered is thy fell and cruel domain! 



42 The New Day 

O Sons of Men, look up with eyes of hope, 

For lo, there breaks the long-awaited Dawn, 

That ushers in, with radiance divine, 

Eternal Day — The New Day of men's Dreams ! 

The Day of Peace, of Holiness, of Truth; 

The Day of Love, when all mankind shall clasp 

The loyal hands of Brothers, round the Earth; 

When Justice, fair to rich and poor alike, 

Shall weigh the balance with impartial hand; 

When Honor walks again in mortal ways, 

And Nobleness bequeaths her heritage. 

Ah, blessed Day, the end of dreadful night, 

That blotteth from the face of all the Earth 

The foul and fearful wretchedness of War! 

And not alone of war — but all his host 

Of savage appetites, and lusts, and bestialties — 

Of gross and carnal Greed, which speedily 

Doth make of man a loathsome lump of clay; 

Of bloody vengeance, which, with baleful ire 

Doth ravage fields, and homes, and hearts of men; 

Of silly Pride, of stupid Jealousy, 

Which see, with eyes whose only lamp is night. 

Unto a woman came the dream divine 

Of building out of all that frightful mass 

Of Moloch's victims — ravaged, war-wrecked men — 

New bodies, lofty spirits lit with hope, 

Who might, at length, in some far distant day, 

Find out the way of Everlasting Peace. 

That Day, now dawning, presageth the age 

When Brotherhood shall sway the hearts of men, 

When mortals, purged and purified, shall prove 

That Earth itself may be the Realm of Love. 

His proclamation ended, the Heavenly Visitant lingers yet a 
moment. Under the divine power of his presence, the war-music 
beats with feeble and finally dying wail. The figure of Moloch 
sinks lower and lower in the Place of Power. The courtiers, slaves, 
and warriors, first trembling, then crouching low before the heavenly 
visitation, finally fall prostrate. Dim grow the lights, flickering and 
ashen the torches; smoldering and dying, the altar-fires. Then in 
a sudden cloud of glory, the Herald of the New Day vanishes. 






Stofcruito 



The Chorus of Months 
Cometh he, Cometh he, who wields the Years of Mystery. 

The Wielder of Years 
Again, O mortals, shall the misty years be swept aside, 
Revealing, in their primal clarity, 
Events of dim-remembered past and vivid present. 
First shalt thou gaze upon a scene wherein 
The ministrations of a faithful maid 
Did change a haunt of frightfulness and death 
Unto a haven, safe, of life and peace. 
And yet another scene, disclosed will be 
With yet another maid, inspired, too, 
By visions, fair, of service fraught with love. 
And then at last, the year of Now 
Shall turn, with undeflecting course, 
To show you how the Modern Moloch yields 
Some share, at least, of his terrific might, 
Unto a force, that soon shall potent be 
To check, forever, all his ancient curse. 

The Chorus of Months 
Goeth he, goeth he, who wields the Years of Mystery. 



®{p> ®fjtri> fart 



"Then in such hour of need, 

Ye, like angels, appear. 

Radiant with ardour divine! 

Order, courage, return. 

Ye move thru the ranks, recall 

The stragglers, refresh the outworn, 

Praise, reinspire the brave!" 

— Matthew Arnold. 



THE FIRST SCENE 

The trumpeting of bugles announces the opening of the third 
part. The scene takes place in the hospital at Scutari, in the Crimea. 
This hospital has been a prison, and in its rough and unfinished 
appearance still bears testimony to that fact. It is night. The men 
lie groaning and swearing. As Florence Nightingale enters, the 
swearing suddenly ceases. In her simple black-stuff gown, white 
apron and cap } she goes quietly thru the ward with her little lamp. 

The Occupant of the First Cot 
Give me a drink, for the love of God ! 

Florence Nightingale 
Just a moment. The water is bad, you know. Here, Selina, 
will you get me some of the boiled water ? 

The Occupant of the First Cot 
He drinks eagerly. 

thank ye, ma'm! What wad we ever do without ye? 

She proceeds to the second cot. She strokes the head of the 
soldier lying there. 

The Soldier 
O, is it you, the Bird? I was dreamin' of my friends at home! 

Voice From the Next Cot 

1 was thinkin' of them too. 

She goes to the next cot. A nurse enters. 

The Nurse 
Please, what can I give that will keep on his stomach? Is there 
any arrow-root for him? 

Florence Nightingale 
No, the tubes of arrow-root are for the worst cases. We can't 
spare him any today. Try him with eggs! 

Voice From the Third Cot 
Please ma'am would you write to my mother and tell her I'm 
coming through all right? 



48 The New Day 

Florence Nightingale 
Yes, my brave fellow, I'll write her tomorrow. 

A Nurse 

There's a soldier prayin' over there so beautiful it's like a sermon 
to hear him. He wants to see you. 

The Soldier 
I am resigned, you know — but please may I hold your hand? 

Just before he dies, he reaches for his Bible and gives it to Miss 
Nightingale. 

The Soldier 

My Mother gave it to me. She told me when I was dying to 
give it to the person I loved best. I give it to you. 

Going to the fourth cot. Miss Nightingale meets the doctors 
there in consultation. As she examines the soldier s wound, he 
objects. She rebukes him gently. 

Florence Nightingale 
Never be ashamed of your wonds, my friend. 

Then she turns to the surgeons. 

Florence Nightingale 
Well, what about it? 

The Surgeons 
It can't be done. 

Florence Nightingale 
It must be done! I shall stay right here until it is done! 

With white face and set lips she remains until the operation is 
completed. 

An Orderly 
A package and a message from the Queen, Miss Nightingale! 

Florence Nightingale 
Will you please read it, Chaplain? I must not leave this case 
just now. 



The Third Part 49 

The Chaplain 

"Windsor Castle, Dec. 14, 1854. 
Madam: 

The Queen has directed me to ask you to undertake the distri- 
bution and application of these articles of apparel, because Her 
Majesty wishes you to be made aware that your goodness and self 
devotion in giving yourself to the soothing attendance upon these 
wounded and sick soldiers has been observed by the Queen with sen- 
timents of highest approval and admiration. Tell these poor, noble, 
wounded, and sick men that no one takes a warmer interest, nor 
feels more for their sufferings, nor admires their courage and heroism 
more than their Queen. Day and night she thinks of her beloved 
troops. 

Signed by the Keeper of the King's Purse." 

The men near her pass the following remarks. 

A Soldier 
It's a very feeling letter! 

Another 
Bursting into tears. 
She thinks of us ! Each man of us ought to have a copy to keep 
till his dying day! 

Another 
To think of her thinking of us! I only wish I could go and 
fight for her again! 

Another 
If the Queen came for to die, they ought to make Miss Night- 
ingale Queen, and I think they would. 

A small lad had been lingering near Miss Nightingale for some 
time. He goes by the name of Thomas. A surgeon encounters him. 

The Surgeon 
Well, lad, what are you doing here? 

The Boy Thomas 
With great dignity. 
I'm Miss Nightingale's man. I have forsaken my instruments 
in order to devote my civil and military career to Miss Nightingale. 



50 The New Day 

Florence Nightingale 
Coming up just then, puts her arms around the little fellow. 

Yes, indeed he has! And without him I do not know what I 
should do. 

As she leaves the room, the sick soldiers kiss her shadow, then 
fall back on their pillows, content. At her departure, a heavenly 
voice is heard singing in benediction. 

The Heavenly Voice 

Your fine white hand is heaven's gift 
To cure the wide world stricken sore, 
Bleeding at the breast and head, 
Tearing at its wounds once more. 

Your fine white hand is prophecy, 
A living hope that Christ shall come 
To make the Nations merciful, 
Hating bayonet and drum. 

Each desperate burning brain you soothe, 
Or ghastly broken frame you bind 
Brings one day nearer our bright goal 
The Love-alliance of Mankind. 

{Words by Nicholas Vachel Linday) 



0% itjtrfc fart 

THE SECOND SCENE 

The scene changes to a spacious banquet hall in the Hotel Willard 
in Washington. It is Friday evening, November 18, 1898. A banquet 
and reception are being given by the Ladies of the Potomac Corps. 
In all the splendor incident to a celebration at the Nation s Capitol, 
this feast is being held in honor of Clara Barton. 

As the banquet is concluded, President McKinley, Chairman of 
the occasion rises. 

President McKinley 
Dear Friends of the American Red Cross Association: 
The war, at length, is over. Many heroes have returned to 
claim their country's gratitude. And for those other heroes who can 
never more return, rich monuments will be erected, bearing testimony 
of a nation's grateful heart. And yet, amid all those honored brave, 
there stand quietly, modestly by, as if they feared detection, those 
heroes who have so bravely fought in that noblest battle of all — not 
with intent to kill, but to save. To these loyal hearts, who have 
gone forth with healing in their hands; to these courageous fighters 
in the Great Red Cross War against disease and death, let us offer 
our highest praise — our heartfelt tribute. 

As the leader in this heroic enterprise, Miss Barton, President 
of the American Red Cross, will respond to the toast, "The Women 
Who Went to the Field." Miss Barton. 

Miss Barton 

During the fearful days so lately past, when we were spending 
our days and nights in the devastated fields of Cuba, trying to 
assuage, in some measure, the untold sufferings of those poor 
victims, many times our hearts were strengthened by the memory 
of those other women, some of whom are still with us, and who 
are our hostesses tonight. These are they who went to the 
field in that terrible crisis, the Civil War. Not as nurses of the 
Red Cross went they, for our American Red Cross was not then 
organized, but in that more difficult capacity of unorganized volun- 
teers, they faithfully followed the army, alleviating at every step, 
some of the frightful suffering. To these noble women, the Women 
of the Potomac Corps, I beg to present the following lines, written 



52 The New Day 

hastily, I confess, but carrying the never-dying gratitude and appre- 
ciation of every true American. 

The Women Who Went to the Field 

"The women who went to the field you say, 

The women who went to the field; and pray, 

What did they go for? — just to be in the way? 

They'd not know the difference betwixt work and play. 

And what did they know about war, anyway? 

What could they do ? — of what use could they be ? 

They would scream at the sight of a gun, don't you see? 

Imagine their skirts 'mong artillery wheels, 

And watch for their flutter as they flee 'cross the fields. 

When the charge is rammed home and the fire belches hot ; 

They never will await for the answering shot. 

They would faint at the first drop of blood in their sight. 

And thus it was settled, by common consent, 

That husbands, or brothers, or whoever went, 

That the place for the women was in their own homes, 

There to patiently wait until victory comes. 

But later it chanced — just how, no one knew — 

That the lines slipped a bit, and some 'gan to crowd through ; 

And they went, — where did they go? Ah! where did they not? 

Show us the battle, the field, or the spot 

Where the groans of the wounded rang out on the air 

That her ear caught it not, and her hand was not there; 

Who wiped the death sweat from the cold, clammy brow, 

And sent home the message: ' 'Tis well with him now!' 

Who watched in the tents whilst the fever fires burned, 

And the pain-tossing limbs in agony turned, 

And wet the parched tongue, calmed delirium's strife, 

Till the dying lips murmured, 'My mother, 'My wife?' 

And who were they all ? They were many, my men ; 

Their records were kept by no tabular pen ; 

They exist in traditions from father to son, 

Who recalls, in dim memory, now here and there one. 

The brave wife of Grant stood there with them then, 

And her calm stately presence gave strength to his men. 

And Marie of Logan ; she went with them too ; 

A bride, scarcely more than a sweetheart, 'tis true. 

Her young cheek grows pale when the bold troopers ride. 



The Third Part 53 

"Where the 'black Eagle' soars, she is close at his side, 

She staunches his blood, cools the fever-burnt breath, 

And the wave of her hand stays the Angel of Death; 

She nurses him back, and restores once again 

To both army and state the great leader of men, 

Now she sits here alone, with the snow on her brow — 

Your cheers for her, Comrades ! Three cheers for her now I" 

At this point, as by one impulse, every man in the room springs 
to his feet, and, led by General W . W . Dudley, gives three rousing 
cheers, while Mrs. Logan with her beautiful white head bent low, 
vainly seeks to staunch the fast falling tears; the air is white with 
sympathetic 'kerchiefs of the ladies, and the imposing figure of Clara 
Barton stands with uplifted arms, as if in signal for the cheers so 
grandly given. 

Miss Barton 

"And these were the women who went to the war; 

The women of question — what did they go for? 

Because in their hearts God had planted the seed 

Of pity for woe, and help for its need ; 

They saw, in high purpose, a duty to do, 

And the armor of right broke the barriers through. 

And what would they do if war came again? 

The scarlet cross floats where all was blank then. 

They would bind on their "brassards" and march to the fray. 

And the man liveth not who could say to them nay; 

They would stand with you now, as they stood with you then, — 

The nurses, consolers, and saviors of men." 

President McKinley 
There is one present, who, too, has been faithfully answering 
the cry of distress from tortured Cuba. Whatever his hands could 
find to do, that did he with heart and soul. None better than he, 
can disclose to us the meaning of the Red Cross. I call upon Mr. 
George Kennan, Vice-President of the American Red Cross, to speak 
to us on the subject, "The Meaning of the Red Cross." 

Mr. Kennan 
Mr. President: Co-workers in the Cause: 
It has been four and thirty years since the formation of that 
matchless treaty which marked the beginning of the Red Cross 



54 The New Day 

Crusade against war. To quote the very words used at the conven- 
tion at Geneva, "The chief aim of the Red Cross is to teach war to 
make war upon itself." Although we were but the thirty-second 
power to ratify that document, some of our delay was due, no doubt, 
to the fact that the treaty was in French, and that it was not suffi- 
ciently understood by the people of America. However, since that 
time, we have done valiantly to make up for our tardy recognition 
of the greatest treaty the world has ever known. Though the idea of 
nursing the wounded found its first impetus in Florence Nightingale, 
nevertheless the first conception of forming an international alliance 
to further such humane work was that of a man, Henri Dunant. 
In bringing this conception into vital form, in completing the organi- 
zation, men have contributed a large share. Together, men and 
women have labored to bring out of that savage horror, a battle- 
field — something that was good. 

The meaning of Red Cross! Had all the world but been with 
us in Cuba and heard those soldiers, mad with wounds and thirst, 
shout, as our Red Cross Caravan came into camp, "There's a woman! 
It's the Red Cross! My God, boys, it's Clara Barton!" they would 
then have appreciated, a little more, the real meaning of the Red 
Cross. God grant that, in its faithful following of the command, 
'Do ye unto others as ye would have them do unto you,' the Red 
Cross may some day come home to the whole world with its full 
meaning at last understood. 

Dr. J. B. Hubbell 
General Field Agent of the American Red Cross. 

Mr. President, we beg the favor of presenting the following 
address which we, the members of the Cuban Relief Expedition have 
drawn up, for Miss Barton. 

To Miss Clara Barton 

"Now that our work has ceased for a time, and our party which 
has labored so long and so harmoniously together has returned home, 
we, the members of the Cuban relief expedition, desire to express to 
you, our leader, as delicately and fittingly as may be, our unbounded 
confidence and admiration, and our sincere and heartfelt gratitude 
and love. As we look back over the past few months, and recall 
the many scenes of suffering and death that we have witnessed, and 
remember how ceaselessly, faithfully, and tirelessly you have worked, 
and how much you have accomplished under the most unpromising 



The Third Part 55 

circumstances, our wonder grows and we cannot help but reverence 
and admire your wisdom, patience and industry. 

"Personally, each of us wishes to express his or her acknowledg- 
ment of your unfailing kindness and interest in our comfort and 
general welfare, and we have to thank you for thousands of those 
little considerations of work and look that go so far to brighten 
one's thoughts and make life a pleasure. We shall soon separate 
and go our several ways, and it will be with the deepest sorrow and 
regret that we shall say goodby to our leader; but throughout life 
it will always be a pleasure to call to mind her image and remember 
all the happy moments we have passed with her. So in parting, it 
will no doubt be a satisfaction to you to have the assurance that you 
hold our warmest love and good will, and that at any time each 
and all of us will be ready to serve you in any way that lies within 
our power." 

A. Von Schelle, 

Member of the National 
Association of the Red Cross. 

J. B. Hubbell, 

General Field Agent of the 
American National Red Cross. 

E. WlNFIELD EGAN, 

Surgeon American National Red Cross. 

F. H. H. CORRTRELL, 

Financial Secretary. 
Lucy M. Graves, 
J. A. McDowell, 
Chas. R. Gill, M.D. 
C. D. Cottrell, 
Annie M. Fowler, 
Geo. J. Hassett. 

After a moment of profound silence, for her emotions overcome 
her, Miss Barton responds. 

Miss Barton 

My friends, my co-workers in the Great Relief Army: You 
will never know how deep is my gratitude for your ever loyal sup- 
port in the trying days just past. Your work has been unceasingly 
faithful, unceasingly brave! I shall always be most proud to claim 



56 The New Day 

you as my friends. And surely, in the dark days we have known 
together, there has grown up a friendship surpassing ordinary friend- 
ships, for we have been welded together in a listing union of souls 
that have labored and suffered and hoped together. No words can 
fully express the deep gratitude I feel for this thoughtful memento of 
cur comradeship, and I shall prize it more than any badge or deco- 
ration I have ever received. 

The scene closes as General Wade rises and leads three cheers 
for Miss Barton. 



Sty* atytrfc fart 

THE THIRD SCENE 

Again the scene shifts and we find ourselves "Somewhere in 
France" The booming of cannon, the bursting of bombs tell us 
that we are near the front lines. In the crimson glare that lights up 
the darkness we see a field hospital. It is but a tent with emergency 
equipment. United States flags and Red Cross Banners are much 
in evidence. Two surgeons, three nurses, an orderly, and two 
stretcher-bearers stand ready for duty. On the cots lie three French- 
men, one African, one American, two Englishmen, one Scotchman 
and one Irishman. The firing of guns and bursting of bombs keeps 
up incessantly. After one exceptionally furious explosion, Dr. Hunt, 
one of the surgeons, speaks. 

Dr. Hunt 

That will bring someone in directly. Poor devils! 

Dr. Wilder 
Well, as far as safety goes, guess we're not much better off 
than they are! Did you know that Doc. Mac, that Scotch surgeon, 
was killed outright the other day! His head was blown off over 
in Base Hospital No. 12. The fellow he was operating on didn't 
get a scratch. Gad ! It's a crime to have a prince like that blown 
to thunder! The Profession! Why, man, there won't be any Pro- 
fession left when this hell is over! 

The sound of scratching is heard at the door. As Dr. Hunt 
opens it, a dogs head appears. 

Dr. Hunt 

Well, if it isn't Bing-Bang! What have you there, Bingy? 

In comes a Red Cross dog carrying in his mouth a German 
helmet. He drops it at the doctor s feet. 

Dr. Hunt 

Well, if that isn't a lesson for the rest of us! Come on, you 
fellows, {Turning to the stretcher-bearers) go get the Hun!" 

The stretcher-bearers depart. 

The doctor turns to one of the nurses. 



58 The New Day 

Dr. Hunt 

Well, what do you think of it all, anyhow, Miss Sewell ? You 
are having your first taste of it. 

Miss Sewell 
The more I see of it, the more I marvel at the something in 
human nature that makes them willing to endure all this unspeak- 
able torture for the sake of an ideal. Why, when I was out yesterday 
looking at their dugouts, I kept wondering how men could keep on 
being men at all and live like that. Beasts have better lairs. And 
then I chanced to see over the doorways, if you can call them that, 
various names. One was called "Ye Rat-hole," and another, "Ye 
Old Curiosity Shop." Wouldn't you think they would lose their 
last bit of humor? 

An Irish Soldier 
From the bed. 
Not on your life, Miss ! Lord ! What wad a Patrick do with- 
out his joke? 

An Englishman 
I ain't got no humor left, I tell ye ! When ye see your comrade, 
the one right against you, all of a sudden go up in the air with a 
flame where his head should have been, I tell ye, ye lose what little 
fun ye had in ye. Seems as if I can't never smile again. 

Just then the bearers return with their burden, a mutilated 
German. 

The Sammy 
Say boys, look who's here! A Boche, by gum! Looks quite 
human doesn't he? Watch me get acquainted! 

The German is placed in the cot next to him. 

The Sammy 
Pretty hard won, those last few inches you Huns got, — hey, 
Boche? O, tell him what I say, Doc! He doesn't savey English! 

The doctor translates the question into German for the boche. 
Only a groan and a turn of the head answer him. Then the Ger- 
man mumbles something. 

The Sammy 
What's that he says, Doc? 



The Third Part 59 

The Doctor 

He says that they had to have it! He says that they need all 
the land they gain to bury their dead. 

The dog has gone to the corner of the African who is moaning. 
The dog licks his hand. The Scotchman confides to the Sammy. 

The Scotchman 
Do ye ken, laddie, that the chap over yonder is breathin' his 
last? He no carry on a conversation wi' us, or methinks he'd be a 
payin' his respects and savin' "Farewell." 

The Sammy 
But doesn't it beat the Dutch, how those blacks can fight! 
They're always the first! Ya can't keep them back! 

The Scotchman 

Aye, they're brawny lads, they are, an' they've got a michty 
speerit in them! 

The Doctor, working at the German, discovers the Iron Cross. 
The Sammy sees it. He turns to the nurse. 

The Sammy 
Well, wouldn't that beat you! The boche drew a prize from 
Old Bill. Dainty little trinket, to reward you for gettin' a bayonet 
thru' your belly. It's so nice to think of when you're dead. 

The Nurse 
Did you ever know that the Kaiser decorated Clara Barton with 
the Iron Cross for her services in the Franco-Prussian War? 

The Scotchman 
Weel — it may be a decoration if ye w x ant to think of it in that 
licht, but, ye canna decorate me wi' one, nae, — ye canna do that! 
All the decoration that I want when I get out o' this Devil's mess, 
is the decoration o' me lassie's kiss! That'll do for me. 

The Sammy 
And me, too, by gum! 

The German dies, with a groan and a word on his lips. The 
doctor catches it. 

The Sammy 
What's that he said, Doc? Translate it, won't you? 



60 The New Day 

The Doctor 
He said that there must be no more war after this. "Kein 
Kreig mehr!" No more war! 

The Sammy 
Say, do you suppose those bodies are thinkin' too, — back there 
in their trenches? 

The Doctor 
Looks like it, Sammy. This isn't the first one who has let it 
out ! Gad ! Won't there be a bloody mess when they all wake up ! 

The door opens and two French Troubadours enter singing, 
"The Marsellaise." The men all rouse themselves. 

The Frenchmen 
The Troubadours ! Mon Dieu ! Now we will all be gay ! 

The Scotchman 
I wish ye micht gie me a bit o' hame. Could ye sing "A Wee 
Hoose Mang the Heather? 

The Troubadours 
We surely will. 

They sing it with such feeling that the Scotchman sobs. 

The Sammy 
Say boys, can you give us Yankee Doodle? 

The Troubadours 
No sir. We're sorry but we don't know it. 

The Sammy 
Then I'll sing a snatch of it myself. 

This he does, in a boisterous fashion. 

The Troubadours 
We have a new American Song. It was written by one of the 
fellows in the Ambulance Corps. Want to hear it? 

The Sammy 
Bet your life! 

So they sing in a rollicking manner. 



The Third Part 61 

Hunka Tin 

From American Field Service Bulletin 

You may talk about your voitures 
When you're sitting round the quarters, 
But when it comes to getting blesses in 
Take a little tip from me, 
Let those heavy motors be, 
Pin your faith to Henry F's old Hunka Tin 
Give her essence and l'eau 
Crank her up and let her go, 
You back firin', spark-plug foulin' 
Hunka Tin ! 

The paint is not so good, 

And no doubt you'll find the hood 

Will rattle like a boiler shop en route; 

And when the night is black, 

And there's blesses to take back, 

And they hardly give you time to take a smoke, 

It's mighty good to feel, 

When you're sitting at the wheel, 

She'll be running when the bigger cars are broke 

After all the wars are past, 
And we're taken home at last 
To our reward of which the preacher sings, 
When the kaiser is in hell 
With the furnace drawing well, 
Paying for his million different kinds of sin; 
If they're running short of coal, 
Show me how to reach the hole, 
And I'll cast a few loads down with 
Hunka Tin. 

Yes, Tin, Tin, Tin, 

You, exasperating puzzle, Hunka Tin; 

I've abused you and I've flayed you, 

But, by Henry Ford who made you, 

You are better than a Packard, Hunka Tin. 



62 The New Day 

The Troubadours 
Let's sing a song for the nurses! {And they sing these words,) 

How gentle are your hands, 
That care for us today, 
They heal the butchery 
They take the pain away. 

And oftentimes our boys, 
Our boys of many lands, 
Will fall asleep in peace 
Holding your mother-hands. 

On the upper stage is slowly revealed the figure of the "Greatest 
Mother in the World." 



taerluto 



The Chorus of Months 
In beauteous, symbolic figures, they interpret a dance of praise 
and glorification. 

Cometh, he, cometh he, who Wields the Years of Mystery. 

The Wi elder of Years 

Once more the ponderous gates of Time swing out, 

And issue forth the myriad thronging years 

That you, immortal souls in finite guise, 

May see, perfected, in the Future's sphere 

The dreams for which today men bravely die. 

Beyond, on fearful fields of carnage, cruel, 

With suffering, that doth wring the heart of Heaven, 

Are slaughtered, mangled, driven to mad distress, 

Not several armies, each against the other, 

But one vast host — the army of mankind — 

Annihilating swift — its very self! 

I pray you, Sons of men, to look with Faith 

Unto the only safety for the world, 

An Empire founded not on craft and guile, 

But builded on the everlasting rock 

Of equal rights for all, the proud, the low; 

When Freedom flings at last around the earth 

Her matchless banner, cleansed from spot and stain; 

When righteous shouts of victory may rise 

From every slave-rid clime beneath the sun; 

When every man, a king in his own heart, 

Believes his brother equally a king; 

When Earth shall be one vast, harmonious realm 

With but one Monarch, Love, The Light of Life! 



3^ 3mxxl\\ fart 



"Heaven opened wide 

Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound 

On golden hinges moving!' 

— Milton. 



Sty* 3faitrtlj fart 



The Herald of the New Day announces the vast international 
assemblage. In come the representatives of all the nations arid 
gather around the Place of Power. Each, with the flag of his coun- 
try, takes his place proudly at the council. 

There, where Moloch sat, is now enthroned the Goddess of 
Love, surrounded by her court — the Spirits of Justice, Liberty, Peace, 
Faith and Truth. Justice, in the unchangeable gray of steel, holds 
the balance. Liberty, in the scarlet of blood shed for Freedom s 
cause, holds aloft her flaming torch. Peace, white-robed and benign, 
caresses her Dove. Faith, in the true blue of loyal hearts, floats 
the white plume of her spotless Honour. Truth, in that living 
green that is the symbol of never-ending being, cherishes her golden 
key. 

The Goddess of Love, haloed and radiant, doth hold a sphere 
of purest gold — the symbol of a world of perfect harmony. 

The Herald of the New Day, from the Dominion of the Im- 
mortals, inquires into the affairs of men. 

The Herald of the New Day 

O, Earth-born Spirits, hark ye unto me — 
Why do ye meet in concourse so complete? 
What new-devised plan hath seemed good 
That those of every nation gather thus? 

The Spirit of Peace 

We come, O Holy One, to ratify the blessed covenants of an 
enduring Peace. 

The Chorus of Nations 
Of an enduring Peace? 

Two Messengers enter and approach the Spirit of Liberty. 

The Herald of the New Day 
And who are they, — these new arrived messengers? Why enter 
they the council-hall of Nations? 



68 The New Day 

The Spirit of Liberty 
They come, O Heavenly Herald, with the news 
That Kingdoms, thrones and Empires, are no more, — 
The day of Kings is past, and Freedom's rule 
Embraces every land upon the Earth. 
And not alone the lands, but all the seas 
Are open wide to any who desire. 
The world around, both sea and land are one 
Beneath the spacious flag of Liberty. 

The Chorus of Nations 
Beneath the spacious flag of Liberty. 

Some of those assembled are seen piling up their battleships and 
setting them afire. 

The Herald of the New Day 
Why burnest thou, with ruthless zeal, those ships 
That armored, gunned and full equipped are? 
Doth man but build that soon he may destroy? 

The Spirit of Faith 

With fervent trust in honour's pledged word, 

With faith that Nations true will ever be 

Unto confederates bound by loyalty, 

We trust no more in arms and battleships 

But arbitrate in peaceful colloquy 

Whate'er important questions may arise. 

The Chorus of Nations 
What'er important questions may arise. 

The Herald of the New Day 
But how upon your huge terrestial sphere 
Are men so governed that the smaller states 
No wrong do suffer at the greedy hands 
Of Nations having vaster lands and power ! 

The Spirit of Justice 
O Messenger of Heaven, the day has come, 
When Might no longer rules with rod of steel; 



The Fourth Part \ 69 

The Strong no longer crush the suppliant Weak, 
There are no Slaves unto Autocracy; 
But each with equal right before the law, 
Is free to live his life as he doth choose, 
Remembering only this — that wrong can never 
Bring out of wrong, one pearl of right. 

The Chorus of Nations 
Bring out of wrong, one pearl of right. 

The eyes of all are now turned toward the Goddess of Truth. 

The Herald of the New Day 
Whom see ye, as with enraptured gaze 
Ye fix your eyes upon some glorious sight? 

The Spirit of Truth 

Ah, Herald, men at last have seen the light — 

The beauteous light of world-redeeming Truth, 

The Truth that looks within the hearts of men 

Searching them through and through for one dark spot; 

The Truth that makes the blind at last to see 

How wonderful is Life, the gift of God; 

How pure is Spirit, though in mortal frame; 

How holy is the bond of Brotherhood; 

How boundless is the great, warm heart of Love! 

The Chorus of Nations 
How boundless is the great, warm heart of Love! 

The Herald of the New Day 

Sing, O Mortals, sing ye songs of praise 

Unto that Shining Power that sways your hearts! 

Resound ye trumpets thru the universe 

With never-ending notes of praise to Love, the Life of All! 

The hosts kneel at the feet of the Goddess of Love. At the 
sound of the Herald's trumpet they rise, then follow the Goddess 
from the Realm of Mortals unto that blessed plane, the Dominion 
of Immortals. They chant triumphantly as they go — their voices 
echoing far in the distance as they disappear from mortal vision. 



70 The New Day 

The Assembled Hosts 

Now appeareth radiant gleams 
Bringing end of night, 
Dawning splendid, glorious, 
Comes the New Day's light. 

Love shall reign forever 
Within the hearts of men 
Peace abideth evermore, 
Hope looks up again. 

Brotherhood makes all lands one 
Faith holds all men true 
Wisdom yields her richest stores 
Vision gleams anew. 

On we go together, 
All nations purged and free 
Bound by Love and Justice 
In lasting harmony. 



Finis 



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